


The Bard's Warning

by BitterlyJittery



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Gen, Implied Deceit, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterlyJittery/pseuds/BitterlyJittery
Summary: A fae-inspired Sanders Sides poem.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The Bard's Warning

They’ll tell you not to venture through the growth of redwood trees.

Though who am I to tell you no Sir, enter as you please.

You think yourself as wise and gifted, cunning to the core?

That’s fine, proceed, but do take heed, what happened to the ones before.

A handsome Prince, a gallant man, could sing a tune as sweet as day,

Set out to fell a fearsome beast, but hunter soon became the prey.

He’d sung a bit too loud it seems, continued with the trees in view,

And now they say that singing is the one thing he still yet can do.

A harpist, shrewd more so than most, came seeking for a place to rest,

But even he did fail to see ‘twas hidden in the wilderness.

He played but one dulcet refrain, and there upon the forest floor,

He plays still now, a wasted brain, for he shall play forevermore.

A humble boy, a farmer’s son, his smile a bright and gentle glow,

Came dancing through the redwood trees, for truly, how was he to know?

His graceful limbs and limber gait did catch an ever watchful eye,

His dance will never end now, and he’ll never even think to try.

A painter, lover of the night, whose vigilance seemed ne’er to cease.

Wound up within a moonlit glade, and reared a gem, a masterpiece.

“How shameful,” thought a thing unseen, “that he should only make the one,”

He now creates eternally, a painter’s work is never done.

They say forgo the redwood trees, advice that I think wise.

But then, what do you know of me? I could be peddling lies.

There is a grain of truth in every fable, that’s my promise.

Travel safely through these woods, good luck to thee, Sir Thomas.


End file.
